Rumors of the thunderbolt in The Flatiron met Mrs. Stickney on her way home, and her thankfulness for the safety of her boys routed all worry over the loss of the stove. But after a day or two the need of a fire began to press heavily. Granny’s little stove was at her constant disposal, but the stairs between made its use inconvenient. To buy one now, with wages low and work scarcely more than two thirds of the time, was not to be thought of. The new problem promised to be a mighty one.

“Did Mr. Gillespie tell you that mocking birds like Caruso actually sell for two hundred dollars?” the mother inquired of Blue, after the small boy was asleep.

“That’s what he said.”

“It doesn’t seem possible, and I didn’t know but Doodles had made a mistake. Two hundred dollars is a great deal of money to keep in a bird,” she went on. “We can’t afford it—we mustn’t! Think what that would buy! Of course, it would grieve Doodles to sell him, but—”

“He ain’t going to be sold!” interrupted Blue stoutly, closing his book and giving it a savage little push across the table.

“I know, dear! It will be hard. But I’m sure Doodles will be reasonable about it. We need the money now more than we need a bird.”

“He shan’t be sold!” cried the boy defiantly. “Why, it would kill Doodles! He loves him as well as—you do me!”

“No, no, dear! You—”

“He does! You didn’t see him when that woman came—I did! I know! I’ll—I’ll sell myself first! Caruso shan’t go, anyway!” He jumped up, fidgeted about for a while, and then disappeared in the darkness of the unlighted bedroom.

The mother sighed heavily. They were running behind, and had been for several weeks. Work might not pick up before October—how were they to live? She sat thinking, thinking, until the clock struck twelve.

The possible selling of Caruso was almost lost sight of in the excitement of the coming picnic. There were trousers and blouses and neckties for Mrs. Stickney to wash and iron. Since papers must be delivered on time, Blue must find a boy that was not going to the picnic. This was a long task, for nearly every one of Blue’s acquaintance had given his name to the Salvation Army Sergeant, and the few not on the list had early been engaged as substitutes. But a free lad was finally discovered, and Blue, who had been tormented by spasms of fear lest he might have to remain to serve his customers himself, ran home on nimble feet to tell the good news. He carried joy, also, in the shape of two magic slips of pink cardboard,—passports to the wonderful automobile rides, eight hours in the enchanting country, and a dinner of dainties topped with ice cream.

Doodles had enough to think of that afternoon, for the little pink card seemed to suggest all kinds of rosy delights. He was so wrapped in his own happy anticipations that at tea time he did not notice the shadow which had fallen on his brother.

Blue’s bliss, with a careless twirl of his hand, had suddenly changed to dismay and sorrow. Standing on the curb, he had been idly fingering his new ticket, when it had slipped from his loose grasp. A strong north wind was blowing, and swept down the street as the bit of cardboard left his hand. Away it flew, with Blue in pursuit; but an inquisitive terrier, spying the curious slip of pink, had started too. The terrier grabbed it first, speeding off with it in his mouth, and although Blue chased the dog out of sight and himself out of breath, he was finally forced to turn back without another glimpse of his precious ticket.

What should be done? Blue said nothing to anybody, but he decided the matter before going to bed. One thing, Doodles must not know. He would directly insist on his brother’s using the remaining ticket. Blue well knew that. So he planned to have Joseph Sitnitsky care for Doodles, and he himself would walk to the grove.

There was no use in asking to have his loss made good. Had not Sergeant Connor expressly warned the children not to lose their tickets, saying that they could not be replaced! No, it was walk or stay at home. Blue had no idea of the distance to Highland Grove; but he felt equal to any number of miles. So without taking Joseph wholly into his confidence he arranged for him to sit beside Doodles in the car, leaving him to conjecture as he might concerning the reason. Joseph never asked questions.

With all his planning, however, Blue did not feel sure of the success of the scheme until he had seen his brother safe and happy in the automobile, waving a merry good-bye to him. He had been afraid there might be inquiries that he could not easily answer; but Doodles, on this morning of unusual happenings, had taken everything without remark, and when Blue had observed, in as careless a tone as he could command, that he was not going to ride in the car with him, had apparently given the matter no further thought.

It was easy to hide himself in the big crowd, and he pressed on ahead, albeit with a little sigh for the pleasure he had missed. He did not hasten; he fell into his usual pace, and kept it. Those sixty automobiles, he argued, would not get started in a hurry, and he should be well towards the end of his tramp before they came up. Billy Frick had told him it was not very far.

Business blocks grew scattering and were interspersed with dwellings. Shops were smaller and less frequent. Bungalows appeared, with tiny gardens attached. The city was falling behind. Along the way were groups of women and children, waiting to see the picnickers pass. Blue heard them talking about it as he went by. Presently he caught the sound of shouts.

“They’re coming!” cried a girl.

He turned in dismay. A big car, gay with flags, was whizzing round the broad curve he had just passed, and a long line followed. Quickly he screened himself with a fat woman, to avoid the possible eyes of Doodles. Then he peeped out—there was Joseph! He dodged behind the broad back, and so missed the sight of his brother. In a moment they were gone.

As the merry train vanished, as the last flag fluttered its farewell through the cloud of dust, he felt all at once abandoned and forlorn. He started to run, but soon realized that he could never overtake those swift cars, and he dropped back into his former pace. After all, there was nothing to worry about; he had simply to follow.

A little further on occasional green fields gave courage to the tired boy, and after a while he reached the open country, finally coming to a fork in the road. He halted in perplexity, wishing that he had not contented himself with such indefinite directions. Billy had said, “You go right straight along, ’ithout turnin’ a single once,” and Blue had rested in that. Not a person was in sight, and the only house was a considerable distance back. At last, he decided on the way that seemed nearest in line with the one he had come, and so trudged on.

The sun was almost overhead. Could he have been walking for three hours? The day was sultry, and Blue looked down with dismay at the blouse on which his mother had expended so much care—it was limp with perspiration!

“Well, I can’t help it!” he muttered. “Guess the other fellers’ll sweat, too!”

If only he knew how far ahead those “other fellers” were! The sound of wheels came from behind, and soon a milkman’s team drew near. Blue voiced the one question in his mind.

“The Salvation Army’s picnic? Oh, you’re off the track! They’re over in Highland Grove. Let’s see—reckon your best way is to cut ’cross lots. Jump in, and I’ll set you down a piece farther on.”

The boy was grateful for the little rest. His feet ached with the long miles he had come, and it was a relief to feel that he was going forward without their help. But the ride was brief as pleasant, and shortly he was on the meadow side of a wire fence, with the instruction to “go right across there, and you’ll find ’em.”

Blue,—making a path through the tall Timothy, grasshoppers flocking ahead, bees and butterflies winging past, birds calling from an adjoining wood,—had suddenly entered a new world. A swift little brook crossed his way, and, as he sprang over, a green slope under a big oak urged him to a seat. Forgetful for the moment of his destination and the brother awaiting him, he threw himself on the grass with a tired sigh. The buzzing of the bees on the hot, drowsy air was like a lullaby. He closed his eyes. Then, with a rush, came remembrance—he jumped to his feet, and started on.

It would have been easy to stray from the right direction, and some good angel must have guided his reckless steps, for only with the crossing of a few fields he came upon a straggling party of girls, and his long journey was nearly at an end.

When he reached the grove he was distressed at sight of Doodles sobbing in Joseph’s arms. The tears stopped flowing the instant Blue appeared, although an explanation had to be given before the small boy would be satisfied.

It was not quite finished when the children were bidden to file up to the distributors and exchange their blue buttons for luncheon. Then Blue suddenly realized the dreadful fact that he was buttonless. It was at once Doodles’s turn to play the heroic part, and promptly he acted. But he did not count on his brother’s resistance, and it was not easy to pin a button on the blouse of a boy who fought it off with all the strength he dared use. The little excitement finally brought Captain Bligh himself to the spot, and as the whole story was poured into the ears of the kindly Captain it did not lose any of its interest through Doodles’s eager telling.

Presently the two boys were sitting placidly side by side, too much engaged in the joys of chicken sandwiches, cakes, ice cream, and lemonade to utter more than an occasional expletive of rapture.

The last dish was finally empty, and Doodles looked up with a seraphic smile.

“When I’m a man,” he said, “I’m going to save my money and give ice cream every day to all the folks that can’t have any!”

“Like it?” queried Blue, with a mischievous lift of his eyebrows.

“It’s the best thing to eat in the whole world! Why,” he went on solemnly, “I wouldn’t have missed mine for—fifty cents!” The afternoon’s delights were many and marvelous. Doodles had a sail in the enchanting swan boat, and then, to his utter astonishment, Sergeant Connor put him into a wonderful wheel chair, and he was rolled away through the grove to a place that was all red and gold with wild flowers. He came back with his lap full of the beautiful blossoms, and his eyes brimming with happiness.

At four o’clock the procession started for home, and, as the crowning joy of the day, Blue and Doodles rode in the leading car beside Captain Bligh himself. The Captain led Doodles into a spirited talk, and Blue gazed at his brother in pride and admiration as he conversed so easily and well with the officer of whom he stood a bit in awe. Suddenly, to his discomfiture, the topic was himself!

“Your brother has a very unusual name,” the Captain remarked, “and I am glad to know he is true-Blue.”

“Oh,” cried Doodles earnestly, “he’s the true-bluest boy you ever saw!”

The “true-bluest boy” tried to nudge his small brother into silence; but Doodles was afloat on his favorite stream of talk, and he only laughed innocently—and went on.

The Captain laughed, too, quite as if he were enjoying Doodles and Doodles’s brother. But the chat presently became less personal, and Blue was unconsciously drawn into it, discovering that the Captain, after all, was not a man to be feared.

The route, although far longer than that of the morning, came at last to its end; but Captain Bligh gave the boys a new subject to wonder and talk about when he told them that he should come to see them very soon.